


Do Droids Dream of…?

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [22]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack, Exchange Assignment, Humor, Other, PWP, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Smut Swap 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: BB-8 is jealous of Poe’s therapeutic exercise ball.





	Do Droids Dream of…?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



“Sorry, Beebee-Ate. Just give me another twenty minutes.”

BB-8 beeped an impatient string of binary at his favorite human, the Resistance pilot Poe Dameron.

“Doctor Kalonia needs the bacta suits held in reserve for serious injuries. Which mine aren’t, thankfully. She says that three standard weeks of daily therapeutic exercises should be more than sufficient. Don’t worry; I’ll be back to factory condition in no time, buddy!”

BB-8 rocked back and forth, indecisive. He should be out on the airfield, helping prep Black One for launch, but…

“Why don’t you wait over there?” Poe suggested, gesturing toward a far corner of his personal quarters. “As long as you’re not in the way, it’s fine.”

That option was more than fine with BB-8. Silently, he rolled his way over to the corner Poe had indicated.

If ever there was a truism about human-cyborg relations, it was that cyborgs noticed and knew _everything_ about their human masters, but as far as humans were concerned, cyborgs were scenery. Practically invisible. Forgettable.

In fact, Poe already seemed to have forgotten BB-8 was there. He was completely focused on his exercise regimen.

An exercise regimen that involved the use—and, to BB-8’s photoreceptor, veritable _abuse_ —of an inflatable orange ball.

At the moment, Poe was doing squats over the ball, legs spread and knees bent, lowering himself onto the ball, rising, and then lowering himself again. The ball, and Poe, bounced with each movement.

It looked a bit like sex. BB-8 told himself he was being ridiculous.

After several repetitions, Poe changed position so that he was lying spread-eagled facedown over the ball. He lifted his hands and his feet off the floor, balanced on top of it, and held that position for fifteen seconds.

Poe really was a handsome specimen. Yes, indeed. Especially when clad as he was only in thin undershorts…

Now Poe was doing modified push-ups on top of the ball. BB-8 watched with yearning and no small amount of envy as Poe’s hips thrust again and again and again into that infernal, idiotic orange ball—

“Wait, what—? Beebee-Ate, what are you doing?!” Poe exclaimed.

But it was already too late. BB-8 had shoved the ball aside and taken its place underneath Poe’s shapely hips.

And Poe’s thin undershorts had also been shoved down past his knees in the process. That was mighty convenient.

“Umm…look, buddy…” Poe began.

BB-8 swiveled his head so that his photoreceptor was pointed directly up at Poe’s face. Poe looked distinctly confused. BB-8 rocked back and forth deliberately, his smooth, plastisteel body casing grinding against Poe’s exposed male organ. Poe looked shocked, but his body was already responding to the simulation. He was getting an erection. He was also getting the picture. BB-8 tried a series of slow, circular motions against that hardening flesh, which Poe seemed to like in spite of himself, and told Poe exactly where he wanted Poe to put said erection.

“I-I had no i-idea that y-you—”

BB-8 opened one of his tool-bay discs. Normally it would hold an arc welder, but that needed to be replaced, so nothing was installed there at the moment, and Poe slotted right in like BB-8 had been custom-made to accommodate him.

Poe gasped and began to thrust instinctively. The application of some silicon-based cybernetic lubricant to the tool-bay made Poe moan BB-8’s name and thrust faster and deeper.

This was delightful. BB-8 switched on his infrared visual sensors, the better to watch Poe’s scrunched up face, eyes squeezed shut, as it flushed, straining and sweating, with rapidly intensifying passion. Given this exquisite sensitivity, the odds were excellent that it had been quite a while since Poe had enjoyed sexual intercourse. BB-8 felt strangely gratified by this discovery.

Poe Dameron was _his_ human, after all.

It was just a shame that BB-8 couldn’t feel what Poe was feeling. Such things weren’t possible for droids…

Or, come to think of it, maybe they _were_ possible. More or less.

BB-8 opened a second tool-bay—the one installed with the all-purpose probe used to measure temperature and pressure in Starfighter engine systems. The probe was smooth, shiny, and cylindrical, three centimeters in diameter at the base. It had a tapered tip.

This tapered tip was pressed to the tight pucker of Poe’s anus. Poe’s hips juddered as the probe was inserted, toes lifting off the floor and fingers digging into the panel gaps of B-8’s spherical body so aggressively that BB-8 had to switch on his anti-roll lock. Otherwise, Poe would’ve fallen right off of him…and BB-8 wasn’t going to tolerate that!

Not when being inside of Poe felt as amazing as it did. BB-8’s selenium drive processor circuits were positively alight with novel sensory data. Poe’s heat, his tightness—! And how active his muscles were, flexing and releasing, flexing and releasing, flexing and releasing. It was electric. Literally.

He began to piston the probe in and out, in sync with Poe’s own accelerating thrusts into his tool-bay.

BB-8’s data storage modules came installed with comprehensive anatomical specs for every known sentient species and over ten billion non-sentient ones as well. So of course he knew precisely where to aim the probe.

“Fuck!” Poe shouted.

BB-8 asked Poe a question. Was that meant as an obscenity or as an order from a commanding officer?

“Aaaahhhh, fuck, no, oooohhhh, I mean yes, more, more— _fuck_ —!” Poe wailed, desperate, trying to push himself back onto BB-8’s probe.

BB-8 complied with the order and jabbed his prostate gland again. And again. And again. _And again_.

It was another 38.5444 seconds exactly before Poe achieved orgasm.

“Beebeeee—aaaahhhh!!”

His anus clamped down violently onto BB-8’s probe, inner walls fluttering, and he was spurting long, thick ropes of semen into BB-8’s tool-bay, coating pistons, servomotors, delicate, sensitive circuitry—BB-8 would need to redirect essential processes to his backup drive because this one was being overloaded, overloaded, failing, searing feedback shock, and now he was short-circuiting, short-cir—

_Bzzt!_

BB-8 came back online and lurched out of the corner where he’d been idling in low-power mode. What had just happened? Had he experienced a temporary malfunction…?!

Negative. It couldn’t have been a mere dream. Humans dream, not droids. Droids don’t dream of anything.

“Beebee-Ate?” Poe asked, pausing in the middle of a push-up. His face wore an expression of mild concern. “Is something wrong?”

BB-8 did not reply. Instead, his photoreceptor swiveled downward to the ball underneath Poe’s sweaty hips. He rolled forward purposefully.

“Hey, buddy, what are you doing?!”

With a quick, simple snip of his cutting tool, BB-8 popped Poe’s inflatable orange ball.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on March 12, 2018.


End file.
